Women I have known
by MichaellaD
Summary: Basically, why Jane took so long to tell Lisbon how he felt. (Hat trick part 3)
1. Sometimes love just ain't enough

**A/N: The song Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough by Don Henley really fits Jane perfectly. (Originally I was going to use It's Complicated by Carolyn Dawn Johnson - another great song.)**

**I was looking through my works and discovered that I'm missing one part to my hat trick. While I wrote what Lisbon and Pike were thinking during that whole love triangle bit, I'd forgotten about Jane. So I'm remedying that here and now.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist.**

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><p><em>Now, I don't want to lose you<em>  
><em>But I don't want to use you<em>  
><em>Just to have somebody by my side<em>

Her words in the airplane are like a blow to his head with a battleaxe. He'd had such grandiose plans. Swooping in on a white horse and saving her, releasing her from her prison (and him from his as well). Then everything would be back to normal, they'd be happy... He honestly hadn't considered that he might be just using her again.

He feels a thud in his heart, and a small part of him wonders if he really just wanted her beside him as a sidekick, out of nostalgia, out of pity. (He didn't, he really didn't.)

He's quiet for the rest of the flight, re-evaluating his patterns of behavior, trying to see where he went wrong. He wants her to be a part of his life, but she's just hammered home something he'd conveniently forgotten: he needs to change before he can deserve her.

_And I don't want to hurt you_  
><em>I don't want to hate you<em>  
><em>But I don't want to be the one to cry<em>

Great man though he is, he'd stupidly thought he could treat Lisbon like he had Angela and then expected her to react in the same way. It had been so different, so easy with Angela. They'd both wanted to leave a lifestyle they hated. He'd provided the tickets and a cockamamie plan to get out of carnie life, and she'd been delighted with him.

Lisbon, on the other hand, took his plan to save them as a personal affront. Now he has some damage control to do (difficult when you're in jail). Knowing her, he's worried she might do something stupid to prove that she doesn't depend on him, and he's spent quite enough time away from her, thank you very much.

She keeps him waiting for her long enough that he almost starts to wonder what he'd do if she didn't show up. He desperately hopes that wouldn't lower his opinion of her. (But she shows up before he has a chance to really wallow in those thoughts.)

She doesn't appreciate the comparison when he tells her they're both in prison. It doesn't change the fact that he's right, of course, and he knows she'll get over it soon enough. Her anger's more subdued now. Mostly irritation, actually. It feels like coming home.

He _really_ does not want to mess this up.

_And I don't really matter_  
><em>To anyone anymore<em>

Socks.

That's all they are. Socks. Nothing important. A ridiculous gift, really. (It's the kind he specializes in.) It shouldn't be affecting him the way it is. If he weren't so good at controlling himself, he might have a tear roll down his cheek. Maybe it's because he can't remember the last time someone got him a gift, of any kind. He doesn't have anyone who cares about him anymore.

Socks are his wake-up call. Abbott just wants him to close cases. Cho and the Rigsbys have their own lives. She's the only one left, the only one there's been for a long time. She shouldn't care for him, but she does. So he thanks her from the bottom of his heart. (He already knows he's never taking them off again.)

_But like a fool I keep losing my place  
>And <em>_I keep seeing you walk through that door_

He doesn't deserve to dream (so he thinks), but then again he doesn't need to. His dream is right in front of him.

On the island he just wanted her back beside him, just wanted to see her again. And her job is her life, so necessarily he imagined her walking through the door of her office, calling him to another crime scene, bantering the day away to help them cope with the evil in the world.

And here they are. His dream is playing itself out perfectly. So perfectly he's worried there's a catch. His plans always end up with a catch. Something small, but nevertheless always something he hadn't planned for.

So where's the catch now? It's making him nervous, so he holds off on his move. Much better to proceed after he's located the problem. Then he'll know how to work around it.

_But there's a danger in loving somebody too much_  
><em>And it's sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust<em>

He thinks of Erica for the first time in years, of that sad interview. Angela had known the worst in him, had loved him anyway. She hated him as a conman, but leaving never crossed her mind. She loved him, she was ready to stick with him no matter what. So he'd kept right on lying, trusting she'd forgive him, as she always did.

He occasionally wondered how she could stay with a man who made his living against her moral character, but never worried about it much at all. Never really considered quitting. He liked the money, not for himself, but to treat Angela. It was easy to convince himself that he was doing it for her sake, and Charlotte's. So easy...

_There's a reason why people don't stay where they are_  
><em>Baby, sometimes love just ain't enough<em>

As he is now, he knows another Angela wouldn't love him. He's no longer a conman. He's a killer (murderer). He needs someone who can forgive him of _that_.

He doesn't have to look far. She's right in front of him, of course. He can't help but feel that he's always had more than he deserved.

But he's different now. His conscience has made an unfortunate appearance. And he can't ask it of Lisbon. He'd be asking her to go against her moral character in forgiving him. That never bothered him with Angela. It does now. (And _there's_ the catch he's been looking for.)

_Now, I could never change you_  
><em>I don't want to blame you<em>  
><em>Baby, you don't have to take the fall<em>

He's asked Lisbon to risk her life - and has risked it by accident - many times. It doesn't even make her blink. It's just her job. Sometimes he thinks she's the bravest person he knows. It makes his heart stop every time, but he knows he'll never be able to stop her.

But risking one's life is nothing compared to risking one's heart.

She's not taking his hints. She doesn't seem willing to take the initiative to advance their relationship. Really, he can't even blame her. He's forced her to do far too much for him in their long acquaintance. He can't ask her to risk her heart on top of everything. If anything's going to happen, it'll be up to him.

_Yes, I may have hurt you_  
><em>But I did not desert you<em>  
><em>Maybe I just want to have it all<em>

For the first time he thinks that possibly he couldn't kill Red John _and_ have Teresa. His guilt, so carefully concealed, returns with a vengeance. How stupid of him to dream of that possibility. Mere torture, is all that is.

He doesn't deserve both. Revenge and love don't go together. They are not like ying and yang, fire and water, opposites attract. They are lemonade and chocolate bars, two north-sided magnets, drinking and driving.

He could never have had Lisbon while he was chasing Red John. She would have been killled fairly instantly. He'd had to hurt her to keep her at arm's length, though. He wishes he could tell her now that he'd always stood by her, even when she believed he hadn't. That is, he could tell her, but she probably wouldn't believe him. Brush him off with a "Whatever, Jane."

She wouldn't believe him because of all the times he's hurt her. But he did it to keep her safe. His mind swirls round and round on these points. It's a terrible catch-22. He tries to remember that he doesn't deserve to have her. All he can hope to do is show her he's changed. He has a plan for that, at least.

Step 1: Stay out of her decisions. It'll be hard, but she's worth it.

_It makes a sound like thunder  
>It makes me feel like rain<em>

Things have come to a pretty pass when he can't tease her into accepting a compliment anymore. She didn't even blush. Ironic, considering he's never meant it more in his life. He whispers goodnight after her, knowing it doesn't matter if she hears or not. She's already gone.

The clicking of her heels as she walks away reverberates in his mind long after she's left. It magnifies, crashing, until he thinks he'll go mad.

It's a miracle he gets any sleep that night.

_And like a fool who will never see the truth_  
><em>I keep thinking something's gonna change<em>

It's the end of a long, hard case. Normally this is where she and him leave for dinner, or ice cream, or _something_. And that's when Pike shows up in the hospital hallway. Jane looks at her longingly. He wants her beside him.

Instead, he watches her - lets her - leave with Pike. (She looks back one last time.)

He's okay with letting her go. This is just a temporary distraction fo rher. An annoying one, possibly, but nothing serious. He's willing to lose the battle so he can win the war.

He's never lied to himself. Any con artist knows that's a bad idea. But he's sure that Lisbon will realize she wants to be with him. He's not deluding himself. It's a fact. She _will_ come back to him. He can't imagine a world where she doesn't.

_And there's no way home  
>When it's late at night and you're all alone<em>  
><em>Are there things that you wanted to say?<em>

Lisbon has something on her mind. He can't tell what, though.

He wishes it was that she has feelings for him, but he knows that's most probably not it. She seems... scared of him, which would fit the in-love-with-him theory, but she's not embarassed, which wipes out the whole idea.

He could bug her mercilesly until she capitulated, but that doesn't seem as attractive as it used to. He wants her to trust him, to tell him things without being forced to.

Whatever she's hiding can't be that important. She'll come out with it in her own time. And it'll be that much sweeter then because it will be a gift of trust.

_And do you feel me beside you in your bed_  
><em>There beside you where I want to lay?<em>

He's no fool. He knows he hasn't treated Lisbon as well as he could have (should have, would have). But she still loves him. He knows she would jump right into his arms if he asked. Well, he's pretty sure she would. Okay, he _thinks_ she would...

It's humiliating, but he's not sure what she would do anymore. And he won't risk anything without that knowledge. So he takes refuge in his dreams again.

It's torture to think about lying beside her, his arms around her, his nose buried in her hair, feeling her warm heartbeat againsts his chest, her lips on his neck... He tries to convince himself that just seeing her is all he wanted in the first place. Reminds himself he doesn't deserve more.

_But there's a danger in loving somebody too much_  
><em>And it's bad when you know it's your heart you can't trust<em>

Money means nothing to him. Power and fame he's stayed away from ever since- well, you know what happened.

But girls get him every time. It's a deep, dark secret, one he would deny under any torture, but it's true. Almost all the mistakes he has made have had a pretty, clever woman tangled up in the mess somewhere. He has trouble reading these women he's attracted to. He gets caught up in delving their hidden psyche and forgets to predict their actions. This invariably blows up in his face. And he never notices the dangerous path he's gone down until it's all over.

With Erica, he'd wanted to prove to himself that she didn't affect him. He'd wanted to show her that he was smarter than her, that she was under his control. He'd ended up feeling like he betrayed his wife, _and_ she'd managed to escape.

With Lorelei, he'd been sure she was just a means to an end. He wasn't going to trust her. But then he did. He also promptly remembered why it was a bad idea to trust people when she broke her promise and crushed his hopes.

Kim didn't directly hurt him, but she stood by and let him be hurt to cover her butt. And he hates that he couldn't figure out she was a cop. He's a carnie, for heaven's sake. Carnies have their very own cop radar. His ego took quite a beating that day.

After each time, he'd promised himself to be careful, to watch himself, not to get too cocky. (He just falls harder every time.)

Now, with Red John gone, he has finally allowed himself to fall in love with Lisbon. And it's messing with his judgment. He can't read her, can't predict her actions. But - and here's the tragic part - just as every other time and every other woman this has occured with, he's not realizing what's happening.

_There's a reason why people don't stay where they are_  
><em>Baby, sometimes love just ain't enough<em>

It's a successful end to a case and he feels like celebrating. A wave of nostalgia washes over him as he trots up to her doorstep with cannoli in his hand. This is what he's been looking for. Just the two of them, reminiscing about the case, eating supper together, completely at ease... Pike opens the door.

He would probably have been able to conceal his shock at that had it not been for the sudden and acute realization that came with it. She already has someone for "after hours". That, in and of itself, really isn't that bad. No, the thing that makes his smile disappear is his sudden cognizance that Pike is _better_ for her than he would be.

A million scenarios rush through his head in the few seconds it takes Pike to get Lisbon.

Her, using silver nail polish (or none at all) when she dresses up so as not to dredge up painful memories for him. He'll know what she's doing and feel guilty, knowing that she loves red nail polish. She'll notice the change in him and feel awkward, wondering what she's doing wrong. Their date will disintegrate.

Her, getting pregnant with a baby girl. He'll never be able (so he thinks) to look at the girl without seeing Charlotte. It'll tear Lisbon apart, because she wants so much to see him happy. She'll curse herself for having a girl. She'll hesitate to put their baby in his arms. He will want to cry, want to tell her that he really does love them both, but that's not his way. He will take the baby, feigning rapturous delight. It won't be tears of joy on her face in the birthing room.

Him, unable to leave her alone at night for fear she'll be killed. He'll need to know what she's doing at every moment. She'll begin to feel stifled, begin to hate his protectiveness, maybe even hate him, but he can't stop.

Him, flirting with a suspect. She'll feel terribly insecure and he won't be able to apologize properly (he never has). He'll joke about it and the hurt will flash in her eyes and she'll look at him pleadingly whenever there's a pretty girl on any future cases.

He can barely pull it together enough to answer her when she comes to the door. Then: "I know you didn't come here just to drop off cannoli, Jane." Her blunt statement undoes him completely.

"I just want you to be happy." And it's true. Too bad that being with him - the only thing that would make him happy - would be terrible for her. As much as he wants her, as much as he loves her, he knows that that won't be enough to give her the life she deserves. He walks off into the night, trying to ignore her eyes boring into his back.

He feels a very faint hope that she'll decide that being with him makes her happy, but he ruthlessly squashes it down. Hasn't he just figured out that that's not what she deserves? As much as he wishes it weren't true, he knows that sometimes, love just isn't enough.

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><p><strong>AN: If I did my job properly you're all feeling depressed right now. Don't worry: happy ending coming next chapter.**


	2. Anymore

**A/N: I went with a Travis Tritt classic: Anymore.**

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><p><em>I can't hide the way I feel<br>About you, anymore_

When Jane walks into work that morning, Pike is already there. With Lisbon. Of course.

This is really starting to get on Jane's nerves. He'd done the honourable thing and allowed Lisbon to pick the life she wanted (a happy, normal one, says a voice he instantly quashes). Why do they have to flaunt it in front of him now?

He doesn't bother trying to hide the contempt as he says hi to Pike. There's no use in hiding anymore. He simply can't stand the man. As he walks in the kitchen, he promises himself to ignore Pike whenever possible in the future. He isn't going to stop him from being with Lisbon, but he certainly isn't going to torture himself more than necessary either.

He ignores them that night according to plan, barely even notices their little display. He's wondering idly if Lisbon would be proud of him for not reading her lips when she wanders over. And she's so sweet, hanging about awkwardly in front of him - it's getting harder to remember that he doesn't deserve her.

Once selfish, always selfish.

_I can't hold the hurt inside  
>Keep the pain out of my eyes, anymore<em>

"So, Lisbon, I heard you're going to be leaving us!" His voice is falsely cheerful in a way carefully calculated to grate on her nerves.

Lisbon jumps slightly and tries to recover. "Yes Jane, that's right."

Jane narrows his eyes. "It's a big decision. Why didn't you tell me?" He would never admit it but the fact that she hadn't is cutting up his insides.

"I thought you knew already." But her eyes are looking too straight at him. Interesting. She had wanted him to know, but hadn't been able to bring it up. Almost as if she's scared of him. (This hurts worst of all.)

"No, Cho told me." He doesn't bother trying to keep his peevishness and betrayal and general grumpiness buried.

Lisbon is clearly taken aback at his tone. "Oh."

And that is the end of their latest non-conversation. They are, as they always are nowadays, two people speaking to each other but not hearing what is being said.

Jane leaves before the pain in his eyes becomes too obvious. It's hurting Lisbon, to see him like this, and he hates that. There's an extra something in her eyes when she looks at him, something that says she's not sure if she can trust him not to go off the deep end. He vows to make sure to seem perfectly normal when his plan kicks in.

He doesn't want to scare her away by looking broken.

_But my mind keeps recreating  
>A life with you alone<em>

He sighs. He would love to do something original, but his brain is not cooperating. Whenever he thinks about how to get Teresa to stay (she's Teresa in his mind an alarming amount of the time, now), he thinks about having her beside him every day for the rest of their lives. And that leads fairly quickly into dreams of waking up beside her every day of their lives. Which dream melts into ashes as soon as he remembers she wakes up beside Pike most mornings. He doesn't like _that_, but he could even live with it as long as he still got to work with her. (He could pull stupid stunts that would force her to stay long with paperwork...)

But no, that won't work anymore. She's planning to _leave_, and he simply can't allow that. He can't live without her. What he needs right now is the best plan he's ever come up with. If he thought of Lisbon as a murder suspect, it would be easy as pie. Scenarios would fly through his brain. He can already see himself picking out the one with maximum annoyance factor to Lisbon and minimal danger factor to himself...

But that would require thinking of Lisbon as part of the job, not as a person but as a factor in a case. And his brain revolts at that as much as at the idea that Lisbon might be a murder suspect.

So he's going to make do with romantic dinner. He consoles himself with the thought that while there are more interesting ways to appeal to a woman's heart, old standbys are old standbys for a reason. And the upside of it is that Lisbon will never suspect anything. It'll be too obvious. He hopes to catch her by surprise, show her all the good times she'd be leaving, but with an extra dash of romance.

He knows she won't be able to resist.

_Let me make one last appeal  
>To show you how I feel about you<em>

Of course he's mad. (Although grudgingly impressed that she's seen through his everything's-all-right facade.) She's so sure that leaving - leaving _him_ - is exactly what she needs. He knew that's what she'd been thinking, but it still hurts more than he thought to hear the words from her mouth. And suddenly he can't wait for dinner at the motel to appeal to her. He needs to tell her _now_ that he needs her beside him...

"Don't break up the team."

He realizes instantly that she's misunderstood him completely. (Of course he didn't mean the FBI team. Grace and Rigsby are long gone, and who cares about Abbott or Fischer or Wiley or Cho? Okay, maybe Cho is someone to care about.) He can't believe she's already forgotten their conversation from last week. It's certainly burned into _his_ brain.

_"We make a good team sometimes."_

_"Yeah. We do."_

If she thought they worked so well together, why would she possibly want to leave? But he can tell she just thinks he's being an overgrown child who doesn't want anything to change, and he doesn't feel like explaining what he meant right then. Especially since Abbott will be making his little anouncement in about two minutes. So he says he's just kidding. It's really all for the best.

Besides, she didn't tell him about her impending move. That still stings. It would only be fair to get her to admit her feelings for him first. _Then_, of course, he'll tell her everything. The truth of what he feels - the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help him God. (He'll need all the help he can get.)

_'Cause there's no one else I swear  
>That holds a candle anywhere next to you<em>

He manages to forget for an instant the fact that Cho and Abbott are sitting beside him when he sees her walking down the stairs. It's the first time she's worn a dress for him and that is what makes her so special, so gorgeous.

His brain catches up and he smiles proudly. It's the perfect dress, the perfect setting. She's perfect. And _he_ made this. It's his. The whole thing is perfect.

(And that's when she tosses a glass of water in his face.)

_My heart can't take the beating  
>Not having you to hold<em>

"I'm sorry, okay?" It comes out a little more brusquely than he'd wanted. But who can blame him? It's been a very long time since he's begged anyone for anything. He'll do anything for Lisbon, of course, but a leopard doesn't change its spots in a day. (In the small part of him that's still rational, he's shaking his head at his mixed metaphors.)

He's standing there begging her, and what does she do? Tell him to go away. Tell him to go away when all he wants to do is pick the lock (it'd take three seconds, tops) and go and hold her tight enough to feel her heartbeat, the way he held her when they met up in Austin...

"I can hear you breathing!"

He can tell that the scorn in her voice is merely there to hide the fact that she's near the breaking point, and it brings him back to earth. Of course he can't pick her lock. With anger in her eyes she'd run and fly away out of his life. (She will anyway, no matter what.)

He figures the word "fly" is rather apt. She's like a frightened little bird. (A bluebird, he decides, just to further the irony.) A little bluebird that brought a ray of life to his prison, and that he repaid by wanting to drag her down into his cage. Small wonder she wants to get away.

There's a lump in his throat that's preventing speech, so he turns away in silence, glad he's preserved one tiny shred of dignity. She doesn't know he loves her. He's got that, at least. He sits on his bed, trying to remember why that's so important.

_A small voice keeps repeating  
>Deep inside my soul<br>__It says I can't keep pretending  
>I don't love you, anymore<em>

"I was a coward."

_He's_ never admitted to being a coward. He has a healthy respect for fireams and he avoids physical confrontations, sure, but coward? Nope. Not him. He's certainly not a coward if he takes a step back and makes a rational decision not to tell a certain someone (Lisbon) that he loves her.

Nothing would be gained by that admission. She probably wouldn't stay anyway. See? He has a perfectly good reason for keeping that particular secret to himself. He definitely intends to stay here in his room. He's got a drink in his hand, a case to solve, and a contract to Abbott that looks down upon running away in the middle of the night.

"A blind, stupid coward. I was so filled with fear and self-hatred that I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me."

Lisbon is mad at him. That might be due in part (okay, in large part) to him. That's alright, it's not the first time, she'll get over it.

He's told himself these words hundreds of times over the years, but they're not enough anymore. She's leaving this time. There's that darned lump in his throat again as it hits him exactly what is going out of his life. He's losing the only person who ever really tried to help him. The only one who cared enough to tell him off. The one thing that kept him going.

He attempts to swallow past the lump. It gets bigger. He's tried over and over again to tell her he's not worth it, that he can't be fixed. She never believed him, always stayed with him. Maybe he _was_ scared. Scared that she'd be wrong and he'd be right, and he really never would be okay.

"By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late. She was gone."

He loves her. And for the first time he thinks that he might be able to admit it. He's not ashamed of it. In fact, it might be the only thing that saved him. He doesn't want to be a coward. He doesn't want her to think of him that way.

He needs to get to the airport.

_I've got to take the chance or let it pass by_  
><em>If I expect to get on with my life<em>

He needs to get to her. He needs to tell her everything. He needs to tell her he loves her. It doesn't matter if it makes her stay or not (he really hopes it does), but he just can't live anymore with the secret pressing in on him. He needs to tell her, just to prove to himself that he can. He needs to know if he can get the words out.

He needs to know if he loves her enough to tell her so.

_My tears no longer waiting  
>My resistance ain't that strong<em>

"I don't want to see you. Go away."

She's gloriously rude, and it's exactly what he needs right now. If she'd been understanding and sympathetic and asked him what was wrong with those big eyes of hers, he's fairly sure he would have turned around and walked straight off the plane.

But instead she's mad (odd, that - he'd thought she was upset, maybe even heartbroken) and refusing to look at him. And even though that's always been how they worked, the tragedy of it all strikes him forcefully. Here before him is the woman he's had beside him for so long, the one he trusts and loves with all his heart (and he's pretty sure that she feels the same way). Here they are, and he's just now come to realize that they've never talked like normal people do.

Sure, they'd traded confessions and asked each other for help, but it had been like pulling teeth every time. Whenever they'd confessed any feelings to the other, it had so embarassed them that it had never been brought up again. Any background they'd dug up on the other person had instantly become taboo.

Lisbon had tried to warn him about what was happening, what was wrong, but he'd never listened. He'd been so sure they understood each other, had loved the fact that personal conversations (always such messy things) were never necessary between them. He curses himself now for not realizing that she had just been following his lead. Even when she hadn't told him she was moving, hadn't she just been doing what he might do, secretly believing that was what he wanted?

It's the end of all that, right now, he decides, as the words begin to spill out of him. It hurts, bad enough that he can feel a tear trickle down his cheek, but that doesn't matter because she's listening to him again. It doesn't matter because a steel band around his heart has just sprung loose and he feels freer than he has in years. It doesn't matter because he's lost the fear that his resistance to openness has fostered in him for so long.

And when she tells him he's too late, he can truthfully say that that's okay. Somehow the pain of her going away is lessened by the knowledge that she will do so knowing that she did, in the end, manage to fix him.

It's his parting gift to her. He hopes it'll make her happy.

_And I'm tired of pretending  
>I don't love you, anymore<br>__Anymore..._

She leans forward. "Say it again."

He stares back. He's never seen her giddy before. It just doesn't compute, especially since she'd just been about to go off and spend the rest of her life with another man. However, considering that two minutes before he was sitting here morosely with the knowledge that he'd cadeenered his ankle _and_ his chances with Teresa, all within ten minutes, he's feeling fairly giddy himself. (He just hides it better.)

She's in love with him. He certainly can live with that. Right now, however, he doesn't think he can live without hearing her say the actual words. _I love you._ Angela was the only other person in his life to ever say those words to him. He hasn't realized he's missed it until this precise moment.

He knows, however, that Teresa isn't about to say it without a little encouragement. Or a trick. "Say what again?" he asks slyly. Unfortunately she's wise to his shenanigans, merely raising her eyebrows. Hmm. She'll need a little persuading. Fortunately he has endless patience.

He surprises himself by feeling an honest longing to tell her those words again. He can't blurt it out now, after that deflection, of course. There are a few other ways to go about it, however... He stands up carefully, reasonably amused to notice that Teresa is not in least surprised. He leans over the table (thank goodness for its four solid legs, otherwise he'd fall flat on his face) and tips her chin up gently.

He's not about to kiss her in a way that might be described as full of craving or masterful or deeply passionate, or any of those stupid terms used in Harlequin romances (why do women love those so much, he wonders). There'll be plenty of time, and opportunities, for those later. Right now there's only one reason to kiss her, only one thing he wants her to know. _I love you._

And he hopes that she sees it in his eyes and feels it in his kiss and his touch and that she'll believe it forever, because he's hidden it for far too long. _I love you._ It's not a lot. In fact, it's barely enough. But the thing that's saving him - saving both of them - is that she loves him too.

And they aren't pretending that they don't anymore.

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><p><strong>AN: I realized later that "cadeenered" is actually regional Ottawa Valley slang and not findable on the Internet. But the word fits so well with what I want to say that I have obstinately decided to leave it in and put the definition in this A/N. "Cadeenered" means a hurt or damaged something, generally a body part, usually as a result of stupidity on the part of the injured party.**


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